Saving Angel
by HazelWolf
Summary: When Harry comes across a boy during his daily jog, he never expects to see his rival Draco Malfoy. Abused and abandoned by his father, Draco clings to his savior as his only hope.
1. Prologue

A/N: I'm just writing this to show the tone of the story. The actual fic will not take place in 6th year. Does anyone notice how the beginning of a fic is the hardest part to write? Sure, you get little writer's blocks along the way, but in reality, a fic could be sitting in your head for _months_ before you actually type anything up.

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**_Prologue: The summer after 6th year_**

Harry Potter sat in his room, on a broken desk chair Dudley had received in the 2nd grade, to go with his desk, which he had sold to a furniture store. It was dinner time and his door was unlocked, a first in a while. Since the Order had threatened Uncle Vernon's life at the Hogwarts Express platform, a tense but cordial relationship had manifested between Harry and his family. The relationship between him and his family, though, fared better than that with him and the Order.

The first time he had sent a note to Remus Lupin, with the intention of doing a third-day checkup for the Order, Remus had sent an apologetic note back stating that the letters were hardly necessary, considering there were still guards around his house. Remus also said, though, that he would be happy to hear from Harry whenever he felt the need, as long as nothing too important was included in the letters.

Now, this might just be Harry, but he experienced a major sense of déjà vu. After all, wasn't that the _exact_ situation that took place last year? The one that led to Harry blowing up at people he considered family, that led to the Department of Mysteries fiasco, the situation that led to Sirius' death? Unacceptable.

Harry felt the rage begin to fill his mind, the rage that had allowed him to cast a Crucatious and have it work at all, a spell that supposedly took months of training. The rage that he felt when he went on one of his end-of-the-school-year jaunts, when he always seemed to survive, no matter what the odds.

'This cannot happen again,' he thought to himself. 'Dumbledore promised there would be no more secrets. That he would tell me what was going on. But they're still treating me like a child. A little boy that needs to be kept in the dark for his own good. Oh, we all know how well that theory works. Just ask Sirius.'

With the last, the rage that had been bottled inside him needed a larger container to keep it from spilling out. And no matter how angry Harry was, he knew what could happen with that sort of power running loose.

With a pull near his stomach that felt similar to a portkey and a sharp pain filling his nerves as the sensation spread throughout his body, Harry was in agony. He bit his lip to prevent the scream in his throat from erupting, and felt a slow trickle of wet go down his chin. He was bleeding, had bitten hard enough to bleed, but that didn't seem to at all matter just then.

Harry felt the force moving through his body tearing at his bones like claws, and breaching them as though they were nothing stronger than paper. Something within his body, a power he had long kept hidden, even from himself, was attempting to break free of its cage. The worst part, of course, was that the cage was his body, and the power was getting violent.

Suddenly, the pain became too much. Harry felt it simultaneously as the shredding reached his heart and his mind, and he sank, gratefully, into the forgiving darkness of oblivion.

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Harry awoke more powerful than he had known he could be. The first time he attempted to use a spell, in his dormitory at night on the first day of 6th year, it let out a noise that sounded like a tea kettle when it becomes hot on the stove, and with a flash of red light, the feather contained within the wand shot out of the tip, on fire. With nothing more than an automatic reaction and a hurried "aqua," Harry Potter discovered he could use wandless magic.

Still fueled by his resentment of the headmaster, who had avoided him religiously since he had returned to Hogwarts, Harry did not reveal to anyone his discovery. He worried that if he told Ron and Hermione, who had become absorbed in each other since they had finally gotten together, they would pressure him to tell Dumbledore. Rather, he kept his now useless wand shell and pretended to use it whenever he said a spell in public.

The year was filled with similar discoveries. The first time he visited the kitchens, he discovered he could also use wordless magic when Dobby tripped him by grabbing both of his ankles at once. The peculiar part about this, he thought to himself, was that he did not know a spell for levitating one's self only a few inches off the ground.

Harry realized exactly what that meant about halfway through the school year, when the new DADA teacher attempted to send a hex his way during a practical class. Though he did not know which hex the teacher had used, and by extension, which defense spell would work, a shield appeared around him as he was muttering to himself "defend against the spell, defend against the spell" in an attempt to think of which shield charm would be most effective. Luckily, he had been holding his wand at the time.

Utilizing the Room of Requirements, Harry practiced with what he termed 'intent magic' for the next few months. He discovered that the magic truly did not need to be spoken an intent to at all, just a thought of what needed to be accomplished would do. Harry was unsure why, but the magic seemed to want to help him. Anything he desired to happen, would. All he knew was that this hadn't been the case even a year ago.

Near the end of the year, another showdown took place. Apparently the DADA teacher was, surprise surprise, working for Voldemort. Although his original plan for the year had been to lie low and wait for Harry's seventh year to attack, when the boy would be distracted by the NEWTs, his spy telling him that Potter had somehow blocked a supposedly-unblockable vomiting hex in class made him think that perhaps he should speed up his plans, before Potter truly became his equal in power.

And because Dumbledore hadn't thought that Tom would use the same trick twice, Harry was easily portkeyed out of Hogwarts. More specifically, he disappeared when he was handed his final in DADA.

This time Tom came alone to fight, thinking in his great arrogance that his Death Eaters would be unneeded. Though this is what probably allowed Harry to win the following duel, it is also what caused the next summer's suffering under a new Dark Lord: Lucius Malfoy, and his merry band of once-death-eaters, the Mud Purgers.

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What do you think? Yay or nay? Just so everyone gets this, the story isn't really going to be about Harry going on wild adventures with his new superpowers. It's more of a romance than anything else, and it _is_ going to be slash. The next update will really bring about some plot. Reviews, critique, editing, and flames welcome!


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, guys, I'm pretty sure you probably picked this up on your way through the prologue, but it actually started during the summer after _fifth _year, when he was about to go into sixth. My bad. I thought I was writing 'summer before sixth year,' but it didn't come out that way. Because I forgot last time, disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING (reeled off in a robotic monotone). Yes, I know, shed tears of joy for… dum-dum-dum… plot!

smileyou'vegotfrenches

**_Chapter 1: The summer after 6th year_**

A tap at the window and a hoot from an indignant owl woke Harry five days after his birthday from a perfectly normal slumber. Unlike previous years, now that the man who gave Harry his scar was gone, Harry slept peacefully. It was his waking days that haunted him.

Harry had never previously realized what a blessing Voldemort was. The man was insane, sure, and more powerful than Lucius Malfoy could ever be, but at least he was predictable. Fixated, even, on Harry. Though the boy-who-lived had never known it before, this truly did take a lot of pressure off of the wizarding world.

Voldemort had technically been 'back' since his first year. Once he found Harry, though, all else seemed not to matter. As soon as he regained even the smallest bit more power, it was Harry he was after. Sending an agent into Hogwarts for the sole purpose of capturing Harry, attacking him in the graveyard, attempting to find the prophecy, even his attempt sixteen years ago, all proof of Voldemort's fixation.

Voldemort spent all of his resources trying to find a way to destroy one teenage boy. As a result, the outside world escaped his clutches.

Harry never even would have been able to kill Voldemort if not for his own idiocy in summoning Harry to him. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix had previously made no headway in discovering Voldemort's lair. If not for the man's insanity, he may have been unstoppable.

Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy did not have the same affliction. A perfectly sane man leading an already-prepared group of zealots trained to do a master's bidding, Malfoy was not concerned with Harry at all. Instead, he focused more of his time on muggles and mudbloods. To the rest of Britain, a new wave of terror had begun, the likes of which not seen since Voldemort's first rise, nearly two decades ago.

Throughout history, dark lords had risen and fallen. Some had even managed to win; only they were more widely known as 'pioneers of wizarding kind.' Now, the latest of the bunch had stepped up.

Harry got out of bed quickly, rushing to the window and letting in the brown barn owl holding a Daily Prophet in its clutches. After paying his knuts, Harry sat down and began to read.

_**Dark Lord Attacks Again**_

_Yesterday, the Mud Purgers completely destroyed a small village of wizards and witches. The town of Hammersmith was a refuge for muggle-born and lesser pureblooded magical folk who want to settle down among their own kind, but holding simple jobs and living a simple life. Thought by neighboring muggles to be a simple, normal little place, Hammersmith was listed as a possible target of the Dark Lord Malfoy. Unfortunately, the few aurors posted could not call for backup in time…_

Harry stopped reading. Nothing had changed for the past two months. Lucius Malfoy, unfortunately, was a bigger threat than the more powerful Dark Lord of the past. In fact, he could very well demolish most of the mudblooded population before he was stopped.

The Daily Prophet had run five articles in the last two weeks alone on the chances of who would be the victor would Lucius and Harry fight. Hinting, much? Even the minister had thrown in a quote on how he was "sure our Mr. Potter will once again to his utmost to assist as we struggle against this new evil." Great.

Harry gave up on sleeping and threw on some exercise clothes. Ever since the end of Voldemort, Harry had been allowed outside without a watcher from the Order. They had their hands full. Reveling in the freedom Harry hadn't realized he missed, he had taken up jogging.

In addition to staying in good shape, the jogging had left him feeling pleasantly sore, which had resulted in the use of a home gym Dudley kept in the basement. After the fat boy's triumph at boxing, Vernon had bought him the exercise equipment without so much as a moment's complaint against the price. It went unused, however, because Dudley wound up just being signed into the local health club by his mother. Because the health club had a pool complete with lounging teenage girls in bikinis, Dudley now spent most of his time at the club. He was even beginning to lose some weight.

Harry, instead, used the equipment, a deluxe set with multiple workouts for more muscles than he ever realized he had. His family still almost completely ignoring him, the basement was a more comfortable place to be anyway. After a couple of months of this, Harry was looking pretty nice by way of his body (if he did say so himself).

At a crossroads, Harry checked the near-deserted streets before continuing on. He would head down to the grocery store before making a circle back. Every few days, he went a little farther on his jogs. Harry couldn't really tell if they were helping, but he enjoyed them, so went anyway.

Suddenly, in the shadow between two houses that were very close together, Harry heard a noise. A long exhalation, followed by some quick pants and a seemingly pained groan. Turning to face the opening, Harry peered in, catching a flash of light off of something shiny.

Lifting a brow, Harry stepped into the shadow. Even a year ago he would have been frightened of what he would find, but nothing muggle could really hurt him any longer, and the wizards didn't know where he lived.

Looking around, Harry found the glinting object. It was a pocket watch, the snooty gold kind worn by the upper class with a chain. Similar to… the chain trailing from the watch to a hand.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked gently. Apparently there was someone hidden by that dumpster, a few yards away. Only the watch and the hand were visible at the moment.

Harry was wary of approaching, but did after a few moments of no reply from the person still breathing harshly. Strangely, with every step Harry took, the breathing seemed to speed. Finally, worried about hyperventilation, Harry hurried the final few steps to discover who was lying on the ground. "Please, calm down-" his words were cut off. Front-down in front of him was quite possibly the last person Harry had expected.

"_Draco Malfoy?"_ Supposedly the blond had gone missing after school let out, presumably to throw in support with his father. Either that wasn't the truth, or Lucius had lost some sort of battle, because Draco was shy his normal 'handsome prince' look. In fact, he looked more like a damsel in distress at the moment. Face turned into the waste receptacle, he could probably peer under the bottom. _At least that explains how he knew I was getting closer._ He was wearing what appeared to be some sort of trench coat, complete with an odd belt wrapped around his waist. From what Harry could see of the bare legs and arms, however, Malfoy apparently was injured. Ignoring the light protesting sounds coming from near Draco's lips, Harry bent down to turn Draco over. Rather than accepting, Draco seemed to shy from the touch as soon as it was offered. A harsh wince and turn away from the hand was all received.

Harry knelt back on his haunches, frowning. Did Draco even know who he _was_? Harry doubted it at the moment. For some reason, the blond didn't strike him as in the best shape to recognize an old school enemy.

Resisting Draco's flinch, Harry wrapped his hands around the smaller boy's shoulders. With a gentle movement, he laid the blonde on his back.

Harry gasped.

The belt, apparently, wasn't wrapped all around his waist. Instead, the long coat fell open revealing a nude body to peruse. Harry may have even enjoyed perusing it, were it not covered with blood and apparent open wounds.

Draco had fainted when Harry rolled him over, there were probably even more wounds on his back. Relieved that he wouldn't have to fight the boy, Harry carefully picked him up, into a cradle in his hands, and started running to the local hospital.

smileyou'vegotfrenches

Reviews, critique, editing, and flames welcome!


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING (reeled off in a robotic monotone).

A/N: I think I may just wind up with a swelled head. Wow, when I've heard stories from beginning authors, they always go on about how they didn't get _any_ reviews until, like, the fourth or so chapter. Haha. And thanks much, guys! I'm already at 7!

somerandomphrasethatmeansiamstartingachapterbecausetheywillnotletmeputinnonletters

**_Chapter 2_**

The nice thing about living in a town as small as Little Whinging is that everything is close. Down the street from the gas station is the place for renting cars and moving vans, and the household item store is next to the grocer. It's a middle-class/upscale sort of place, but it's homey. The day care is next to the grade school, across the street from the upper-level schools. Far enough from London to never get any tourists, but near enough to be considered 'modern' by way of city life.

The strangest thing Little Whinging had experienced any time recently was the sudden surge of what they chose to call 'gang movement' in the last few years. Because the vandalism mostly occurred during the summer, most blamed Harry Potter, a boy they all knew of from those nice neighbors occasional complaints. The Dursleys, while not the most pleasant of company, were still invited around occasionally, and their only complaint seemed to be about that ungrateful brat that had been dumped on them as a child.

Now, however, a new oddity was occurring. As the butcher, baker, and electronic gadget maker stared out the windows of their shops, drawn to a shouting from outside, they noticed that strange local boy speed past holding something large and brown.

Harry tried to ignore the shouting from the passers-by on the streets: someone had noticed that it was a person he was carrying, and naturally, once the cry had begun, others took it up. He sped past, going faster than he had ever even tried while jogging. His speed casually reminded him of the old days, and 'Harry hunting.'

Draco was beginning to nearly stir in his arms, causing him to slow rather than risk dropping the boy. As the blonde's breath hitched in pain, Harry frowned and made a quick decision. Whispering a light "stupefy," Draco quickly returned to his previous comatose state. Harry regretted it, but Draco was in pain, and they needed to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

The hospital was, in reality, only a small care unit staffed with around ten doctors daily. They were some of the best in the business, but if anything truly threatening were to happen, either London or even the next town over would be a better, quicker solution. The inhabitants of Little Whinging hadn't wanted anything large, and it was truly unnecessary. The most threatening things that had happened in the past few years were two broken legs, a broken arm, four pregnancies, and an unfortunately fatal stroke, a woman her aged husband found dead in the study. Beyond that, there were the occasional schoolyard fights, but nothing to be concerned over.

Harry was actually grateful for this when he rushed down the three blocks between his previously-aimed-for grocery store and the hospital.

Bursting through the optionally-automatic doors, he rushed to the information desk and, in between gasping breaths, pleaded, "Please, he's been badly hurt," _gasp_ "there's blood, and cuts, and I don't know-"

"Through that door." The woman behind the desk cut in, gazing at the coat-covered person in concern. She pointed to a doorway behind her, to the left, where the doors were thankfully already propped open by wedges.

Harry rushed through the entryway, gazing a few rooms with small cots inside them, which could be closed by plastic curtains hanging around them on tracks. The mini-rooms surrounded an area filled with desks, whiteboards, and men and women in white coats.

"Help! Please, help! I think he's been beaten!"

Immediately there was a rush, nurses pushing a cot out from a room, doctors crowding around. Harry was pushed to the back, and hurriedly whispered an "enervate" in Draco's general direction, thinking the intent of it reaching him. Harry was unsure what, exactly, the results would be of medical test on someone stunned, but he wasn't about to let it mess up the staff enough to let them think that Draco was in some sort of coma.

Draco immediately shifted, and began to stir with the noise surrounding him. One of the doctors had pulled open the coat, and a gasp went up. Immediately the situation was taken more seriously. Most of the doctors moved out, leaving what was apparently the two most senior members of the staff to handle the crisis. More organized that way.

A woman in one of the lab coats closed the curtain behind her, and Harry rushed up in anxiety. "What are you doing? Let me in! I need to be there for him!"

"Calm down, kid, let them work. Anyone in there would only get in the way at this point. I'm not sure what's going to happen, I'm an oncologist. There was a lot of blood there, though."

A few shouts rang through, echoing calls for water and towels, and some sort of drug. Harry worried, but listened. There was blood on his hands and some on his shirt, which had seeped through Draco's jacket. He hadn't noticed before. He had just seen cuts, and maybe a burn or two, and something odd on Draco's neck… Then he had started running.

Harry paced for the longest time, and at some point a kind-looking woman had come up and handed him a stack of forms to be filled out. Mechanically, Harry put down his information and what he knew of Draco's, in the 'relationship to patient' box writing "schoolmates." He gave it back when it was requested, and sat in a chair in the waiting area he had been directed to.

Around an hour later, a male nurse came out and gave him an update on Draco's condition. Apparently, he had been severely beaten, had some sort of damage to his nervous system, and had been raped more than once within the past few months. Draco had been knocked out with some sort of sleeping drug because he needed to rest and regain strength. Duncan, as he said his name was, gave the news in a soft voice; he had given bad news before.

Harry was shocked, and followed in stunned silence when asked. He was directed to a desk filled with piles upon piles of paper, and told to wait for a moment until someone arrived.

_Raped? Draco was raped? Before he was even beaten? How? Who? This just doesn't make sense. Even if he had been captured by some sort of enemies of his father, they would have just beaten him up and left him… wouldn't they? And why here, of all places? How did he get here?_

A man arrived and asked some questions on the paperwork Harry had filled out. He gave the truth, and told him to send any bill to his house, addressed to him rather than his guardians. He would take care of anything needed. The man nodded and sent him back to the waiting room.

Two hours later, Harry was being shaken awake from the slumber he had fallen into while waiting for more news on Draco. Duncan was there again. "Hey, kid, Harry, right?" Harry nodded.

"You can go. Your friend is sure to be asleep for at least a few more hours, and he'll need to stay the night anyway. Go home; you can come back tomorrow morning for an update. He should be fine by then."

Harry frowned, worried, but agreed anyway. Visiting hours were nearly over, and if he didn't get home before Dudley, there was a chance he wouldn't be let in at all.

The next morning, a phone rang, jerking Harry from his slumber. Surprised, his gaze wandered to the small desk, it had been Dudley's before he decided that he needed a bigger one to fit a computer; around age six, if Harry remembered correctly. The clock said that it was four in the morning! Who would ever be calling at this time? Shouting came from his Aunt and Uncle's room; Uncle Vernon was telling the 'boy' to get the phone.

Slightly annoyed, Harry rushed downstairs to pick up the receiver before the answering machine picked up.

"Who is it?" he asked politely, rather expecting for one of Dudley's friends to have called when they were drunk, or something similar.

"Is this Harry Potter?" The voice was fuzzy; he couldn't really make it out.

"Yes… what's going on? Why call me at four am?" Harry didn't really think it would be a wizard, because he was far more likely to receive an owl or fire-call from one of 'his kind,' as Vernon would put it.

"Yesterday you dropped off Draco Malfoy at Whinging Hospital. We would have called his family, but they don't seem to be listed, and he isn't exactly in a fit state to give out any information. Look, he's been freaking out since he woke up; the hospital psychologist thinks that we should find someone familiar to talk to him, he won't let anyone near. Our best guess is that he's in shock. You don't have to come, or anything, it's just tha-"

"I'll be right there." Harry hung up without waiting for a response, and rushed upstairs, trying to be quiet.

"It was a wrong number, Uncle Dursley," he called, hoping that they would go back to sleep. A grunt and a shift was his only answer, and he gave a sigh of relief. Grabbing his sneakers from his room, he snuck downstairs and out the door, running as fast as he had the previous day to reach the hospital.

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Reviews, critique, editing, and flames welcome!


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING (reeled off in a robotic monotone).

A/N: Good lord, its summer. Ignore me; I go to a school that lets out _really _late. Some sort of random law says that we can't start until Labor (?) Day. That's September first, right? Anyway, we get out late. I've only just finished finals. But don't start celebrating yet, people, it doesn't mean that I'll update any faster, unfortunately. Now that I'm free of the hellhole formerly known as 'school,' I'm going to be working on a story that I've actually been planning for quite a long time. Sorry it's a no-pairing, action/adventure type thing. (Apologies here, I'm just hoping to get readers from both slash _and_ het lovers, but don't worry, anything with I pairing I ever write will definitely be our darling Harry with a boy.) Look for the story in the next month; I expect all of you readers to read it whether or not you are a slash-only lover. 

A/N2: Also, I just wanted to apologize to those who have mentioned that they dislike rape/beating stories; I do too, but it's necessary to explain Draco's reaction later in the story. You'll see what I mean.

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**_Chapter 3_**

When Harry arrived, he could hear hoarse shouting coming from the large room he had left Draco in. Arriving breathless, he breezed by the woman behind the waiting room desk; it was a different one from this- er- last afternoon, and she yelped when he ran through the now-closed doors into the emergency room section.

"Draco!" he shouted as soon as he got into the room. Apparently they either hadn't wanted to risk moving him, or the hospital did not have more long-term stay rooms, because the shouting was coming from the same cubicle Draco had been left in late yesterday, and Harry was now close enough to recognize exactly whose voice that was; the blond Slytherin ice prince was shouting as though he was being murdered, and that wasn't a good sign considering the condition he had been left in.

"Who're you?" a staff member had come up.

"I'm Harry Potter, someone called about Draco Malfoy? He goes to school with me?"

"Oh, thank goodness," was the response. "He's been yelling whenever anyone gets near him. Apparently whoever beat him up was more than just one person, or that's what the psychologist thinks. He says that Draco is suffering from some sort of shock to the system, powerful enough to make his vitals jump whenever he panics. The psychologist is still in the chamber, trying to calm him down, he needs to have his bandages changed."

As they spoke, the woman led Harry to the curtained area, warning him on the way, "If this doesn't work, we are going to have to drug him. His body won't handle the kind of stress he's putting it under. We're hoping that someone familiar, that wasn't involved in his beating, will be enough to calm him down for now."

They opened the curtain and stepped through, closing it behind them. A blonde man was standing across the room from them, on the other side of Draco's bed, speaking in a low, soothing voice that was easily heard over Draco's shouting. The boy could barely speak any longer, let alone scream, his throat was so hoarse.

"It's all right; the boy who brought you in is coming. You're in a hospital, and you're safe here. My name is Alex. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just trying to help…" and some other useless strings of words attempting to calm Draco. It wasn't working.

"Draco?" Harry said softly, walking up and touching Draco on the shoulder to get his attention. The blonde man, Alex, jerked his head up and said, "No, don't-"

But he silenced himself when Draco suddenly went quiet, staring up into Harry's face.

"Potter?" his voice was scratchy and soft.

"Yeah, I'm the one who found you earlier. How are you doing? Do you remember anything?"

"You brought me here? Why?" Draco sounded amazed.

"Because you were hurt, that's all. What's going on? Why were you screaming?"

The other two in the room, the psychologist and random staff member, had been forgotten until this moment. Draco's eyes widening, he whirled to again face the man named Alex, his breath speeding up. As a result, his back was to Harry, who had been standing pretty close, and he unconsciously leaned into Harry, apparently just trying to once again distance himself from the man across the room. Harry, unsure what to do, accepted the weight and put his hands on Draco's shoulders, gently.

"What happened, Draco? What's wrong?"

Draco gulped, then leaned even further into Harry, hunching in on himself. "It was my father… and… and them. You know."

And Harry did know. The Mud Purgers, once Death Eaters. If it had been the whole gang of them, no wonder Draco didn't want anyone getting close. These were people he had known since childhood that had turned on him, why would he trust strangers?

"The Purgers?"

"Yeah. Them."

"Just a second," Harry said, and then gently pushed Draco away as he retreated to talk with the staff member who had brought him in. He heard a shift behind him, and could feel Draco's eyes burning into his back.

"He just said that his dad did this. You can't send him back to them."

The staff member had heard, and though she hadn't understood all, enough was there to make it perfectly clear.

"We have procedure for this sort of thing. Just step right outside for a second, we can tell a secretary to call a lawyer, and have the others stop trying to find his family for now, until we know more."

Harry nodded, and followed through the curtain as she swept it back.

As he closed it, a scream echoed behind his back.

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Reviews, critique, editing, and flames welcome!


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